Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Super songs for sad sacks

Sometimes, I think we might be in the final days of rock as relevant music.

So much has been done with the form. The possibilities of the basic instruments -- guitars, drums and bass, maybe keys -- have seemingly been exhausted. Thematically, the form has explored everything from the primitive (cars, sex) to the future (robots, apocalypse). We've had garage rock and prog rock --  noise rock and rock operas. We even have post rock (which, ironically is almost 20-years old).

Where's a band to go these days? If there is something new going on, it's the rock band as a chamber orchestra -- a band that uses rock instruments to compose songs that do more than swing between verses and choruses, with a bridge and/or solo thrown in to break up the monotony. The goal is far beyond a swinging beat or a raising a holy guitar howl. It's rock music as cinema score. Songs as mood and scenes. It's serious art, always a dangerous move for music, which is often best when felt, not thought about. Orchestra-like composition is not new to rock, but the emphasis on arrangement and composition has definitely never been more prominent.

Some prominent bands have taken rock down this road recently. The Arcade Fire, Grizzly Bear, Animal Collective are some of the most well received bands in recent years. All are bands that have taken us far from the stripped-down paleorock that was the rage 10 years ago. 

Among the most interesting of this sort of rock band is the Ohio-to-Brooklyn band, The National. The National is a band that runs at a different speed than just about any other rock act I've ever listened to that I actually like. The band's music weighs a ton. Even when the tempo rises -- often led by some terrific drumming by Bryan Devendorf -- singer Matt Berninger's moody delivery doesn't waver. 

At first, it's tough to get over the dreary weight of The National. Like every other dreary baritone crooner, Berninger is compared to Joy Division's Ian Curtis. Also, like Curtis, Berninger is more than melancholy. He seems, at times, to be absolutely miserable. Comparisons to Joy Division should end there. Berninger may be dark, and he barely ever sounds like he's trying hard, but he can hold a melody very well. He can sing. The band, unlike Joy Division, is terrific at backing him up with lush, evocative layers of sound. It's actually hard to remember that this is supposed to be a rock band. 

The band's new album High Violet is more of the same sound the band has perfected for the last 10 years. It's not much of a change at all from Boxer. But for a band like this, I don't think that's a bad thing. The mood is at times subdued, depressed. Other times agonized. A look at the album's song titles says a lot. For example: "Terrible Love," "Sorrow," "Little Faith" and "Afraid of Everyone." In "Conversation 16" Berninger even gets demented. He sings "I was afraid I'd eat your brains/Because I'm evil." He makes Morrisey look like Santa Claus.

The thing that sets The National ahead of some of the other acclaimed Brooklyn bands that I don't particularly like very much -- Animal Collective and Grizzly Bear -- is a strong purpose of vision. These songs are sad. They are slow. But they are also focused. The band is orchestrated -- there are nearly 30 extra musicians credited on the album -- and the songs fussed over, but they are not tinkered into a mushy oblivion of noise and harmonized vocals. Berninger as a vocalist is incredibly compelling, lyrically and melodically. It's more than just cool sounds or some regurgitation of what hipsters think Brian Wilson or The Fairport Convention were about. The National writes real songs. They are every bit as good as Arcade Fire, even if they're not quite as dynamic.

Yeah, it's interesting to muse about rock's relevance, but it's more an intellectual diversion. If rock continues to be relevant and contemporary, The National definitely represent one way of doing it. And as long as melody and musical instruments remain important ways of expressing ourselves, I think rock -- whatever it is at the moment -- will continue to be vital even if its not a top-selling form.

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